Forty Eight States Away
by TranquilityCity
Summary: During their last summer of freedom between undergrad and medical school, Meredith, Cristina, Derek, and Mark embark on a two month road trip through all 48 US states. Personalities clash, friendships are tried, and relationships bloom.
1. WA, OR, CA

**I'm tackling a full-length story.**

**Description: During their last summer of freedom between undergrad and medical school, Meredith, Cristina, Derek, and Mark embark on a two month road trip through all 48 US states. Personalities clash, friendships are tried, and relationships bloom.**

**I own none of these characters.**

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**Washington, Oregon, California**

**WASHINGTON**

My stepmom hovered in the doorway while I stared into my already overstuffed suitcase. I was forgetting something, but I couldn't think of what. I knew I should've made a list when I first started packing, but I was too anxious to just have everything tucked away. I ran through a brief list in my head, but everything was accountable. Seriously, what could I possibly be forgetting?

Susan cleared her throat and stepped into my room. "Are you sure you have enough money?"

I sat down on the edge of my bed, resigned by the fact that I wasn't going to think up what I was missing.

"Yes, I have plenty of money." I'd been saving up for months for the trip, plus Susan and Dad had been sliding me money every so often, which added to the nice thick wallet I had stashed in my practical over-the-shoulder bag I was carrying along.

Susan looked into my suitcase, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. "You know I like your friends, right?"

I nodded. "Why do I get the feeling you have a 'but' to add to the end of that sentence?"

"I don't want to be an overbearing mom-type," she started, her voice trailing away. She'd told me months ago how much she didn't want me to go on this trip. I knew she was worried, so was Dad, but they'd come to terms with my decision way back when. "I just want you to be safe."

I smiled, appreciating her need to protect me. My mom was never so concerned; making Susan's overbearing ways surprisingly refreshing. "We will be safe. I promise. I just…I can't sit here for the whole summer waiting for school to start again. I want to see everywhere before I lose the next seven years of my life to school, my internship, and my residency."

"I know, I know," she said quickly. "You'll have a wonderful time. You know I just fuss over you and your sister."

"I know."

Outside, a car horn honked and I jumped up from my bed. Mark, Cristina, and Derek stepped out of Mark's new black Jeep Wrangler and started to walk across our lawn. "They're here."

I must have had a frantic look in my eyes, because Susan took me by the shoulders and pushed me towards my door. "You go get the door and I'll zip everything up. Make the boys bring your suitcase down for you."

I nodded and ran down the stairs two at a time, opening the door before they could even knock. "Jesus, Grey, anxious enough?" Mark teased in his typical way.

Cristina shoved into the house with a roll of her eyes, probably already tired of Mark. "Where's your shit?" she asked.

I pointed toward the stairs. "In my room."

Mark and Cristina headed toward my room and Derek followed behind, greeting me with a nod of his head, a slight smile, and a 'hey,' before running up the stairs after them. Before I could even walk the length of the hallway, Mark and Derek were carrying my suitcase and duffle bag down the stairs, talking about rearranging the back of the Jeep to fit everything. Susan and Cristina were in my room, Susan making my bed, and Cristina staring at a framed picture I had of the two of us.

"You said goodbye to your dad, but what about your sister?" Susan asked, straightening my pillows.

"She said she'd be back from breakfast before we left, but I gotta go," I said, looking at the clock on my bedside table. It was crazy to think that I wouldn't be back in my own bed for two months.

Susan's mouth turned down into a frown. "I'll call her real quick," she said and left the room.

I turned to Cristina, "Are you ready?"

"Sure. My mom packed for me, so I'm sure there's ridiculous stuff in there like fifty-thousand pairs of socks and a bikini, but," she shrugged, "I was going to throw everything into a garbage bag. She said it'd be tacky."

"She's right you know."

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Oh, and I'm going to kill Mark."

"We haven't even set off yet and you'll have to spend two months with him, so you better figure something out. You said you'd be fine traveling with Mark."

"I will be as long as he keeps his eyes on the fucking road and stops farting in the car."

I groaned and closed my eyes, "I'll kill him."

"Told you," Cristina sighed.

"Meredith!" Susan called, "Lexie will be home in a few minutes. I think Mark wants you all to be by the car so you can just go after you say goodbye."

I look around my room once more, still unsure of what I forgot, but deciding it wasn't important anyway. For an entire summer, my computer would be untouched, my bed unslept in, and the clothes I'd left behind unworn. My room would be a ghost town. Cristina walked out of the room, giving me one last sentimental moment, before I followed behind her.

Susan followed behind us and I noticed Mark and Derek had managed to make everything fit into the back of the Jeep and in the rooftop container we'd all chipped in to buy last week.

"So where are you headed tonight?" Susan asked casually, as if she didn't have a full itinerary at her disposal.

"Portland, Eugene, and then spending the night in Redwood Park," Derek supplied, offering a nice smile to Susan.

She nodded. I knew she wasn't happy we'd be camping along our trip. But before she could give me a look or say a word, Lexie's boyfriend's car pulled up in front of the house and she raced out onto the lawn. "Meredith!" she called and flung her arms around my shoulders. I laughed and hugged my enthusiastic sister back. "I would have been so pissed if you'd left without saying goodbye."

"You're the one that had to get breakfast on the day I'm leaving."

Lexie pulled back and smiled at me. "Are you excited?"

I looked over at Mark, Cristina, and Derek, and while none of them glowed as brightly as my sister, they all looked just as excited as I felt. "Yes, very," I said. "I promise I'll buy you something in every single state. You'll have forty-eight gifts by the end of my trip."

"I want something weird, okay? No magnets. Really strange things."

"I can do that."

Lexie hugged me once more and I could tell she was getting emotional. "Okay, go. Have fun!"

"I will," I smiled and turned to hug Susan.

"Be safe," she whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek.

As I pulled away, Mark and Derek both slid into the front seats and Cristina into the back. I held my bag closer to me and waved at Susan and Lexie before sliding into the car and shutting the door behind me. I clicked my seat belt into place and dropped my bag to the ground.

Mark looked over his shoulder at Cristina and me, a grin on his lips. "Ready?"

Cristina smiled first, which surprised me, but I just joined along. We both nodded, "Ready."

The engine hummed to life and I watched as my house disappeared from view as we headed out onto the open road.

**OREGON**

As we approached Portland, just crossing the border, Mark was adamant about not stopping. He was crazed about our schedule, which was shockingly out of character for him. He was so damn laidback with everything; I was surprised to see him even interested in consulting the time. "We'll be stopping in Eugene, so we don't need to stop twice."

"It's on the list, man," Derek reminded him slowly, as if to gauge his best friend's reaction.

We'd spent nearly two weeks perfecting our list, all picking out places we wanted to see. We'd all been to Portland countless times, but it seemed important to visit as many major US cities as we could and as for the Pacific Northwest, Portland was one of the most famous. Plus, Mark had added places no one else wanted, but we agreed to visit, since that was the only way for us to really get this trip off the ground. We needed his car, we needed his confidence behind the wheel, and we needed his father's promise to pay for all the gas for the trip. Plus, he was Derek's best friend, and I didn't mind him much.

Cristina sighed and stretched her legs out, acting like we'd been in the car for three day rather than three hours. "I have to pee, so we should stop anyway."

Mark groaned, "Fine, but just a few minutes."

"Mark, ease up," I said. "We wanted to visit Portland. We have time."

His eyes met mine in the mirror. "Fine, fine, we'll stay for lunch, but no longer. We don't want to be putting our tents up after dark."

We all agreed, not bothering to point out to Mark we had less than six hours to drive to Redwood National Park and it was barely noon. We'd have plenty of time before the sun set at 8:30 PM.

Mark pulled into a Starbucks and we all took turns with the unisex bathroom. We each ordered a large coffee and headed down the street toward O'Bryant Square, where all the best food trucks parked every day. Derek made a beeline for the Hawaiian truck, while Mark got in line at a spicy sausage truck. Cristina and I settled on a custom made sandwich truck with a long line. Long lines meant good food. As we waited, I noticed they had a display of Oregon shaped salt and pepper shakers. I bought one of each for Lexie.

By the time we reached the guys, a half hour of our hour was already gone and so was their food. Mark tried to pick from both of our plates, but we swatted him away. He finally relented and went to buy some French fries, claiming he was a growing man and needed the sustenance. We all all ate his cheese fries when he returned and with full stomachs, we returned to the road. Before we drove away though, I took a picture of Mark, Cristina, and Derek talking among themselves, the food trucks lined up in the background.

I slept a bit between Portland and Eugene, but managed to wake up just as we pulled into the parking lot in front of the University of Oregon's Knight Library. I smiled, knowing this spot was chosen by Derek. He looked over his shoulder at me, both of us smiling at the memory.

Derek wasn't supposed to attend the University of Washington with the rest of us. He was from back woods country Maine and wanted to attend college in the equivalent sort of setting on the west coast. He was dead set on going to college in Oregon, but then we attended an orientation at the University of Washington together the summer before our respective senior years. Mark came with him, friends since middle school, and decidedly attending college together. I met Derek first in the line for macaroni and cheese. He talked my ear off and invited me to eat with them. I remembered thinking that he was probably tired of all the women fawning over Mark. When I met Mark, I knew he'd try to hit on me, but that we'd remain friends despite his need to constantly flirt.

After the weekend, we all stayed in contact and when my letter of acceptance showed up, I immediately called the boys. We'd all be accepted and all accepted the offer. Cristina turned out to be my freshman roommate—a transplant from Southern California—and she became my person. The four of us had been on the same track since then.

"Why are we here?" Cristina grumbled, looking particularly bored.

Mark seemed to understand what was happening and nodded at Derek. "We'll go pick up some snacks. Meet back in ten?"

Derek looked grateful and stepped out of the Jeep. His eyes met mine. "Come in with me?"

Before Cristina could question or complain more, I hopped out of the Jeep and followed Derek silently up the path winding in front of the impressive library. We both craned our necks as we approached the building. The art deco façade was covered in gigantic windows with a thick, ornate crowning circling the top of the building. With a bit of pride, I thought of Suzzallo Library back on our campus, knowing it was much grander.

Derek and I stepped inside the library and I wondered for a moment what it would have been like the last four years without him and Mark. I stepped back while Derek walked around the vestibule, running his fingers over the dark wood on the walls and along a glass case which held an old, leather-bound book. The woman sitting behind the desk glared at us, but I was thankful she said nothing. Derek looked overly thoughtful and I wondered if he regretted his decision to go to Seattle for school.

When he turned back to me, he grinned again, and I knew the answer. We didn't need to spend another minute in that library.

We walked back outside and sat along the curb to wait for Mark and Cristina.

"When I added this place to the list, I assumed it would make me feel something being here," he said, staring out along the pretty, peaceful campus.

"Regret?"

Derek shook his head. "No, more like a longing. Maybe," he shrugged.

"What _did_ you feel?"

"Nothing really." He looked over at me. "I feel nothing being here. I love where I am now. I like being in Seattle and so close to Mount Rainier. I like our campus and the people," he bumped his shoulder to mine. "I even like the rain."

I laughed then. "No you don't. You tolerate the rain, meaning you complain Just as much as we do."

He nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But the people are still great."

Mark and Cristina pulled up a minute later and we climbed back into the Jeep. I slid into my seat behind Derek and held my camera up, shooting a picture of Derek looking out over the campus he denied attendance to in order to go to school in Seattle. With Mark, Cristina, and me.

**CALIFORNIA**

We weren't allowed to camp inside Redwood National Park, but local state parks which surrounded it allowed for camping and contained fires. Mark drove down a dirt road toward our campsite. The sun was slipping through the enormous trees and all I wanted to do was get lost among them. But the hiking was being saved for tomorrow and tonight would just be us, a camp fire, and a lot of s 'mores. Cristina had made it perfectly clear that she didn't want to camp. At all. But she relented if it were just a few nights along the way. It was easy to get away with it the first night, but we all knew she'd become grouchier and grouchier as the trip went on.

We pulled up to our campsite, nestled between tall, incredibly beautiful trees, and Mark killed the engine. There were a few cars on the other side of the site, but no one was close enough to really hear or see very well. Mark and Derek jumped out to start unloading the things we'd need and Cristina and I walked across the cleared area to a tall redwood tree.

I handed her my camera. "Take a picture," I asked and wrapped my arms around the thick base.

She rolled her eyes, but took one anyway. She knew if I didn't document our trip, no one would.

Within an hour, two tents were pitched, coals were dumped into a fire pit, and the coolers were open, full of beer. The sun was barely setting, but within the thick forest, it was hard to see much beyond the darkness. Mark pulled out an old solar radio, which he'd apparently been charging all day, and turned to the local alternative channel.

We grilled up hot dogs and beans and relaxed.

"How many miles to go?" Cristina asked.

Mark laugh and tipped his head back. "A lot. Thousands upon thousands."

"But only forty-five states to go," Derek said.

Everyone broke into similar smiles. I couldn't even remember how we'd all agreed to the trip, but one afternoon it'd been decided. Mark printed out a map of the United States and we all started starring locations, and then drawing lines, and finally making a plan. It was strange, really, because while Derek and I were close and Cristina and I were close and Mark and Derek were close, the four of us didn't spend a lot of time together. We'd study together for our shared classes, and once we took an overnight trip to Vancouver, Canada with a few other friends, we never just hung out. I wasn't sure the trip could even work with just the four of us. Truth be told, I still wasn't sure.

After we ate, we packed all the food back away from any wildlife that might grow curious. We kept the fire burning and took turns changing in our respective tents into more comfortable clothing. By 9:30 PM, the day of driving, the stomach full of beer, and the warm fire got to me and I started yawning. Cristina and Mark had been playing thumb wars together for at least 10 minutes, leaving Derek and I with our faces tipped towards the sky, making out perfectly pristine stars among the mile tall trees.

Derek pointed into my field of vision, "Ursa Minor," he said softly. I glanced at him. He kept his eyes trained to the sky, "Or Little Bear, or the Little Dipper." I smiled, turning back to the sky. "That's Polaris," he says, "it's the brightest star in the constellation and is a yellow-white supergiant. It belongs to the rare class of Cepheid variable stars."

"What are you, an astronomer?" I teased.

Derek turned to me with a smirk. "None of you would take astronomy with me last semester. You, too, could know all of this."

"But then what would you have to teach me?"

He laughed, "Touché." He continued, "In Greek mythology, Ursa Minor and Major were related to the myth of Callisto, a nymph of Lycaon who was transformed into a bear and set among the stars. Ursa Minor represented her son Arcas, who was the son of Zeus. Hera became jealous after she learned her husband Zeus had disguised himself as Artemis, Callisto's husband, and seduced the nymph, so she transformed Callisto into a bear."

"And her son, Arcas?" I asked.

Derek smiled, "That's a long story. I'll save it for another day."

"Astronomy I understand, but where did this knowledge of mythology come from? And how did I never know you are a closeted nerd?"

"Oh, I'm not closeted. By now you should _know_ I'm a nerd."

"Yes, but a mythology nerd."

Derek nodded, turned his eyes to the fire and wrapped his arms loosely around his knees. "That's my mom's fault. She taught mythology to middle-schoolers after my dad passed away. She also taught English, which you know, but mythology is what she loved. Loves. Anytime I'm home, she has a new god or story to tell us."

I stared at Derek with new eyes. "I never knew."

He shrugged. "Mark's sort of tired of hearing it. Most of my friends in high school didn't care, so I didn't really tell anyone."

"I care. I like hearing the stories."

Derek's eyes were cast in the brilliant, flickering light of the fire, which warmed them more than normal. His lips were turned up into a playful gleam and I wondered how many stories he had hidden in his head. I started to daydream about learning them all along our trip and a smile tugged across my lips. Just as I was about to say something else, Derek's phone began to ring, pulling us both back to reality. He checked the ID and showed it to me. _Mom_. "Speak of the devil," he said and stepped away from the fire.

I quickly realized how exhausted I was, so I nodded towards the tent. "I'm getting ready to turn in," I told Mark and Cristina, who were now a bit tipsy and giggly.

I slid into the tent, which was nicely constructed thanks to Mark and Derek, and pulled my duffle bag closer to the light shining from the small electric lamp in the corner. Inside was an envelope with my name written on the outside in Susan's perfect script. I opened it up and found ten 100 dollar bills. I smiled and sent a thank you toward the sky. I tucked the money away with the other bills, realizing I now had nearly 2,500 dollars for our trip, and opened the side pockets of my bag, looking for my tooth brush. I looked and looked, wondering if it could possibly be in my larger suitcase, but everything in there were just changes of clothes. I sat back on my heels and tried to remember packing it. But I couldn't, because I forgot my tooth brush. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes. I knew I forgot something.

After I used some mouth wash I found in Cristina's bag, I stepped back outside, where it now felt substantially cooler in my lighter clothes and away from the fire. Mark, Derek, and Cristina were all saying goodnight, so I raised my hand in a wave and bounced around a bit on my bare feet to keep warm.

"Nice legs, Grey," Mark teased. I looked down at my pale, freckled legs.

When I looked up, Mark was smirking at Derek, who just rolled his eyes. "Shut it, Sloan," I said and then called, "Night Derek," as I climbed into the tent.

Cristina followed behind me, sliding down into her sleeping bag next to me. "I hate camping," she grumbled.

"But you have one of those squishy things beneath you. It's just like a bed."

"There are bugs," she complained.

"What bugs have you seen?"

She sighed and turned off the lamp near her head. "I know they're out there."

"And they're in your parents' house, too. And our old dorm room and our old apartment."

"Dirt, then," she said.

I rolled my eyes, making me feel better even if she couldn't see. "Cristina Yang, you are so sheltered, and I hate you, but for some reason, I'm friends with you."

"You know you're a better person _because _you're friends with me."

I shook my head, "No, it's more like I know how bad of a person you are, which makes me feel better about myself."

For a moment, Cristina is quiet and I assume she's pissed or maybe asleep. But then she says, "True." Then she adds, probably because it's dark so I won't be able to see the sincerity on her face, "I'm really happy I agreed to this trip."

I stared up at the small mesh openings in the top of the tent, which gave a glimpse of the night's sky, and whispered, "Me too," but I was pretty sure Cristina was already asleep.

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**If you liked it, please take a moment to send me a review. Thank you!  
**


	2. CA

**Thank you for reading the last chapter and leaving reviews! I wasn't really expecting either, so it was a nice surprise.**

**Just to clarify: yes, this is primarily a Meredith/Derek story, but of course Mark and Cristina will be very present. M + C will _not_, however, be a couple. I just like playing with their friendship (or not so much of a friendship yet). **

**I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

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**Redwood National Park, California**

I woke before the sun our first morning on the road and was desperate to see the sun rise. As quietly as possible, I snuck out of our tent dressed in my pajamas and a pair of heavy hiking boots and made my way along a winding path towards the clearing we'd driven through the evening before. When we'd passed through it, I knew the area was large enough and clear enough to watch the sun rise through the thick trees and I thought it might make a nice picture.

The path was darker than I'd imagined, so I stumbled a bit and caught my hand on a rough branch. I knew I'd broken the skin when my hand felt sticky and warm. I pressed my hand against my pajama pants and walked carefully the rest of the way.

The clearing was further than I remembered and I had a few moments of panic where I wondered if I'd get lost and die in the woods. But finally, I saw light already peaking through as the trees thinned and noticed a marked tree along the path, indicating the clearing ahead. There were a few heavy boulders in the area, a natural barrier against the trees, and atop one of them sat Derek. I could just barely make him out in the light morning glow, but I'd know that profile anywhere.

He looked so calm and serene sitting on the rock, his face tilted toward the sky, I didn't want to interrupt. But I also didn't want to miss the sun rise. I stepped a bit closer, snapping a twig in half along the way, causing Derek to jump, his eyes moving wildly towards me. "Shit Meredith," he sighed, looking instantly relieved.

"Sorry, I was trying not to sneak around like a weirdo," I said and walked more confidently towards the rock. "I didn't expect anyone to be here."

Derek offered me a hand up onto the boulder and I settled in next to him. "Me neither. I just wanted to see the sun rise today. Don't know why."

I smiled. "Yeah, I get that," I said and Derek nodded at me.

For a long time we didn't say anything else. The woods were so still and beautiful so early in the morning. The birds were just starting to wake, so their early morning calls were warm from sleep and longing from hunger. The dim light perfectly filtered through the trees, reflecting off the light fog undulating along the forest floor. The air was slightly damp with humidity, but overall not too hot. It would be the perfect day for a nice, long hike before setting out on the road again.

Once the sun finally crested the horizon, I took out my camera and snapped a few photos. I nearly forgot Derek was even by my side—he could be so still and quiet—until he asked if he could take a photo of me. "Oh no," I said, waving him off. "I don't need that."

"But do you _want_ one?" he asked, holding his hand out to me.

I already had the photo of me hugging the tree from yesterday, but for some reason, I liked the thought of a photo of me in the early morning light. I handed the camera over, "Only if you promise to let me take one of you."

"Deal," Derek said and lifted the 35MM to his eye. He didn't move away from me and the shot was very tight on my face. I didn't smile. I kept my gaze relaxed and calm, hoping to emulate the beauty from the morning in my eyes. Derek said nothing after he took the shot and handed the camera back to me. I stayed close to him as well and chose to zoom into his left side, taking a photo of just half his face. I smiled when I saw the results on the little screen.

Derek didn't ask to see the picture, so I turned off my camera and stood up, my stomach growling in protest. I ran my hands along my pants, feeling the wetness from my cut hand. I looked down, seeing a slight gash in my palm. Nothing too terrible, but definitely not something I'd want infected. I hadn't even seen him approach, but suddenly Derek had my hand cradled in his palm. "What happened?"

"I got in a fight with a tree branch and lost," I told him, looking up into his blue eyes. "It's okay. I'm fine."

He shook his head. "I have the medical kit back in my tent. I'll clean that up for you."

"Really, I'll be okay. Just some alcohol and a bandage."

Derek didn't say anything else as he took me gently by the elbow and guided me back along the path. He walked so effortlessly, but with purposeful strides. I'm sure I looked like a lumbering Sasquatch next to him, my arms too long for my body and my feet too unsteady. We made to camp in just a few minutes, but of course Cristina and Mark were still sleeping. Derek sat me down at the fire pit from last night and disappeared into his tent.

At the other camp from across the way, I could hear people waking up, greeting one another, laughing quietly into the morning air. I smiled, tipping my head up to gaze through the heavy forest canopy.

Derek reappeared next to me and rested my hand palm up on his knee. His skin felt incredibly soft. "This will sting," he said and I nodded. I, too, was studying to be a doctor, but I said nothing. I hissed a breath as he wiped my palm with an alcohol swab and then covered it in Neosporin. I took note of the rubber gloves he wore and smiled—ever the doctor-in-training. Once my hand was bandaged, I thanked him.

"No problem," Derek grinned and stood up. "Breakfast?"

**San Francisco, California**

After our morning hike, and Mark falling twice and Cristina bitching about two itty, bitty blisters for three hours, we all quickly packed up and headed back onto the road. I'd enjoyed our hike, as did Derek, but the other two weren't so keen on it. We decided in the future, we'd just take hikes together, leaving the other two behind to sleep in and continually check the woods for a WiFi signal.

Thankfully, we had a break in our camping end of our trip and we drove further west towards San Francisco. I hadn't been to the city in nearly a decade, but I was excited to spend the night there—filling my stomach with good seafood, shopping along the hilly streets, and visiting Alcatraz Prison like the tourist I was. Mark's father had booked two rooms in one of his hotels, a perk of being a hotel heir. Cristina and I would be sharing an adjoining room next to the guys. I was hopeful after a night in a real bed, Cristina wouldn't be so surly about camping again.

With the windows rolled down, the sounds of the city filtered through, a complete change from the quiet of the forest earlier this morning. Cristina pressed herself back into the seat, her feet propped up on the back of Mark's seat. "How much further, Sloan?" she asked.

We'd both had to pee for more than an hour.

Mark made a quick left turn, making me slam my shoulder into the door. "Just a few more minutes. Keep your knees crossed," he suggested as unhelpful as possible.

Cristina rolled her eyes at me and then closed them.

I watched the Golden Gate Bridge slide in and out of my line of sight as buildings obstructed my view. I watched the water glisten in the bay, reflecting the brilliant early afternoon sun. I watched Alcatraz Island grow bigger and bigger in the distance until we were just a few miles—only a thin stretch of water—from the former working prison. Mark pulled up to our hotel, bearing his father's last name, and parked up beside the valet. We all climbed out and Cristina practically ran into the ornate lobby.

Mark had been estranged from his father his entire life—refusing to take anything, including his last name. So anytime Mark asked for a favor, his father jumped at the opportunity to help. I knew he didn't want to stay on his father's property or take his gas money, but I also knew we wouldn't have the money to take the trip we wanted to without his father's help.

The hotel was very nice. It was the kind of place where someone carried your luggage for you and there was a man whose job was to press buttons in the elevator all day. We were staying on the floor just below the President's Suite and had bay facing windows. Mark gave Cristina and me a key once we reached our floor and we stepped into an impressive double-occupancy room. Cristina whistled, "Fancy." She dropped her bag on the bed closer to the windows.

There was a light knock on the adjoining door, which I opened and smiled at Derek. "Hey."

"Hi." I stepped back so he could come in, but he didn't.

"Mark's calling about Alcatraz tickets. Are you both in for a night tour?" I nodded and Cristina agreed, too. "Good. We're going to eat the Swan Oyster Depot."

Cristina laughed, "Oysters? Neither of you are getting laid by us."

Derek grinned and Mark yelled from the other room, "Yeah, but there might be some sexy ladies at the restaurant who want us."

"Sexy ladies, Mark?" I called. "Really?"

"He's hopeless," Derek said and winked. "Meet in the hallway in a half hour? We can walk around until dinner."

Everyone agreed and Cristina and I lay down in our beds to nap for the next thirty minutes. By the time we'd finally fallen asleep, Mark was pounding on the door and the four of us took the elevator back down to street level, walking out into a beautiful early summer afternoon. We walked in pairs around the city, Mark and I in one and Cristina and Derek in the other. Mark wanted to stop every few feet to check out a store or a woman, so after a while I was practically dragging him along the street.

In the middle of the afternoon, we stopped for ice cream. We sat along the wharf staring out at the sea lions that congregated on the docks close to shore. They all lay happily in the sun, calling and honking, their heads thrown back, the appearance of smiles on their brown, whiskered faces. Little kids threw bread to them, but seagulls swooped in to eat every piece. The sea lions didn't seem to care either way.

Before dinner, Mark wanted to walk the Golden Gate Bridge. Derek didn't seem to want to, and we all knew it was especially far away, but we started walking in that general direction. After a while, we hopped on a bus; the bridge was still miles and miles away and all our feet hurt from our morning hike. When we arrived, there were a billion people congregating all around the bridge. In teams, we walked along the bridge, Cristina by my side.

"I've decided I hate California," she said, looking out across the bay.

"Why?"

"Everyone is so slow." She indicated to the older couple in front of Mark and Derek.

I noticed their fanny packs and sensible shoes. "They're not from here. That's like standing in the middle of Times Square and pointing someone out, saying they're a New Yorker. They're not. Those people are from Kansas or Alabama."

Cristina smiled, "She probably churns her own butter and makes sweaters out of horse hair from her own horses."

"And he owns sixty hunting rifles and ten mounted deer heads."

"Such a simple life," Cristina sighed. But we both knew neither of us would ever want that.

Mark glanced over his shoulder, "They're from Florida. People from Florida love fanny packs."

"That's a sweeping generalization," Derek chimed in. "I don't know if anyone really _loves_ fanny packs. They're pretty practical, though."

"If you wear a fanny pack, Shepherd, so help me god I will chuck you off the side of this bridge," Cristina said and glared daggers in Derek's direction. He simply grinned at her.

We kept walking until we reached the middle of the bridge, where most everyone stopped along their way as well. A few people were standing directly in the middle, so we stood off to the side a bit. Mark looked down below the bridge toward the water and Derek held onto one of the strong, red cables. Cristina and I were shoulder-to-shoulder while I watched the water slowly ripple in the bay.

Being in the middle of the woods this morning had its own sense of calm and beauty. The forest was impossibly quiet and serene, yet standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, with a million people and cars and birds and boats surrounding me, I still felt wonderfully at peace. The air was salty and sweet here and noise was deafening, but I felt as if I was standing on something great, looking out at someplace unlike anywhere else. I smiled and knocked my shoulder in Cristina's.

She glanced at me. "I might not be into butter churning and deer heads, but I can't wait to see all that in person."

For once, Cristina didn't make a snarky comment or a joke. Instead she just nodded and said, "Yeah, me neither."

By the time we walked the rest of the bridge and back again, hopped on a bus, and made it back to Fisherman's Wharf, it was way past our reservation at the restaurant and our trip to Alcatraz was coming up quickly. We didn't have time to do it all, so we decided to skip a real, sit down dinner, and opted to pick up quick sandwiches at a place called Boudin. Apparently, they were known for their sour dough bread, so we each had a different sandwich and took turns trying each of them while we stood in line for the ferry to Alcatraz Island. The sandwiches were really incredible.

As it got darker and darker, the island looked ominous in the distance. The interior lights were shining and casting an eerie glow on the rocks and water which surrounded the island. We boarded the ferry and chose to sit outside on the deck in the warm night air. The water was pretty choppy and I felt nauseous the entire way out. But the view of San Francisco behind us was amazing. I took a few pictures before closing my eyes again.

Alcatraz was something I had to see to believe, and honestly walking along the windy path up to the actual prison, I felt a strange sense of dread. For decades, hundreds of men were imprisoned—first during the Civil War and later from the 1930s-60s. The federal prison in the early 20th century held the worst sort of criminals—kidnappers, gangsters, robbers, and murderers. I imagined them living there, stuck in small, cramped cells, never seeing the sun most days. Even if the prisoners had been the worst type of person, and better off locked up, I couldn't begin to truly understand how hard living day-to-day in a cement box would feel.

Mark, Derek, and Cristina seemed excited to start our tour, so I pushed aside my unease and walked into the prison with them. The tour was automated through individual headphones. We walked slowly to follow the tape, starting in the cafeteria and moving down through the cell blocks. The prison was decaying—the walls split and cracked, the floors tarnished and scuffed. The lighting was dim, maybe to set the mood or maybe to show how the prison used to look at night when it was operational. Either way, it creeped me out.

By the end of the tour, I was ready to head back to the bright, twinkling lights of the city, but Derek had a few questions for one of the island's historians. I stepped outside, facing the city, and took a few more photos. I turned and took a few of the prison itself. I noticed a rock on the ground—nothing special—but picked it up and pocketed it. Lexie wouldn't get it, but I liked the idea of choosing something so authentic for her.

We boarded the ferry for the trip back and this time the water was calmer. I stood out along the railing, leaning my hips into the damp metal. I glanced over as Derek stood beside me. We stared at the island as it grew smaller and smaller.

"My grandfather was imprisoned here."

I turned quickly, my head snapping in his direction. Derek kept staring out over the water. "He was a robber. Mostly grand theft auto. He stole something like twelve cars in five or six weeks. After that, he robbed a few businesses outside San Diego, and was caught trying to steal his thirteenth car in some random town along the coast. He was brought here in 1955 and died in prison in 1957. A heart attack while he was sleeping."

I didn't know what to say, so I picked the old standby. "I'm sorry."

Derek shrugged. "He wasn't a great guy, apparently. He was a drunk and wasn't nice to my grandma. My mom's mom. Anyway, his body was never returned to my grandma and I just asked the one historian if people were buried here. She said during the military days, people were buried on Angel Island, but a lot of the inmates at Alcatraz were cremated and their ashes were dumped in the water."

"That doesn't sound completely legal."

"It's not now, but back then, there was so much going on. There were a lot of inmates and not enough staff. I guess things were kind of confused. Anyway, it's not like I wanted to visit his grave or anything. I just wanted to know what happened to him."

I stared up at Derek and felt differently for a second. I never really thought about his family or his family's past before—beyond what he'd told me about them, at least. I wondered what else I didn't know about him. I wondered what I didn't know about Mark or Cristina. I thought about the things within myself that they didn't know. Suddenly, Mark's Jeep, and this city, seemed so much smaller. Somehow, it felt like there was no place to hide and soon enough, all our secrets would be spilled.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


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